


Those Who Favor Fire

by Ember Nickel (primeideal)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fantastic Beasts, Gen, Next Generation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-09
Updated: 2012-02-08
Packaged: 2017-10-30 20:13:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/335623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/primeideal/pseuds/Ember%20Nickel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Six moments. Six fiery magical creatures. Six Weasley grandchildren. Originally written July 2011.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dragons: Dominique

Charlie sighed. He'd made his opinions on the matter quite clear on numerous occasions, but in the end, it wasn't his choice to make. Crina was right. They  _did_  need a new intern.

"Before we even  _think_  about getting you up close," he barked—more gruffly than he was used to, the days of Quidditch captaincy were long past—"you have to show that you can handle yourself on a broom. Do you play Quidditch?"

Dominique shook her head, not looking up.

"More's the pity. In the morning, before you start the food work, I want you to practice flying. When you can do two back-to-back laps from here to... _that_  mountain," he pointed, "without stopping, we'll talk again. Until then, you report to Crina."

He could see her doing the math in her head. She barely had two months between terms. That wouldn't be much time, and despite her slender build, she didn't look like she was very used to exercising. Her hunched-over posture as she walked away didn't give the impression she expected to make it.

When he saw her in the afternoons, she looked exhausted, but eager to do whatever he asked. At first, he had her reading letters and lists of symptoms. It was Crina, by the end of the third day, who had to tell him that she'd been holding her own (and, just as importantly,  _not_  holding her  _nose_ ) when dealing with the Swedish Short-Snout carcass, and they might as well give her smellier tasks. That was what she was there for.

So, still skeptical, Charlie let her do muddy groundwork. Every time he saw her, she looked more exhausted than the last at first glance, but at least she was holding herself upright. Halfway through her second week, she stopped him as he was leaving work with an "Oy."

"Oy?" he mockingly echoed.

"I mean...er...hold up a minute."

He realized what was going on as she led him outside. Charlie raised his eyebrows, but crossed his arms and said nothing. Straddling the Comet 300, she took off unhurriedly, as if to save herself the embarrassment of starting fast and burning out.

His stomach had began to rumble as she reached the mountain the first time—he really ought to have specified  _when_  she could show off, but there was no chance to stop then. She seemed to gain altitude without meaning to on the return leg. Drifting could be dangerous, she ought to...well, there'd be time for that later.

On the second trip out, she started losing altitude. Again, this seemed unintentional, but more like what he'd been expecting. She paused, maybe two-thirds of the way there, but then seemed to worry that this would count against her as she quickly sped up and then resumed a slower pace.

By that time Charlie had to let himself be impressed, if only to take his mind off how hungry he felt. Dominique whirled at the mountain and started approaching once more. Had she charmed herself or something? She didn't seem to have taken her hands off the broom...

There was nothing to do but watch her creep closer, closer still, until she hung in the air directly above him, not coming down, but showing him that she could keep going if he wanted. She was dripping with sweat, but dead silent. He could see little of the whiner Bill and Fleur had wrote to him in desperation about—perhaps the work was taxing enough to drain all the noise out of her.

"Well done," he said. Then she couldn't hide the pride on her face, swiftly landing and staring him in the eyes. Perhaps he'd been brusque enough to make this come as a real surprise. So much the better. "We'll see about getting you into the air and working with some of the Longhorns, maybe by August." A glint of calculation—obvious in her face, if she could pull off real subtlety she wouldn't be a Hufflepuff—and he knew she thought she could do whatever it took to get there by the end of the next week. She was right.

Two years later she was trying her luck against all sorts of magical creatures in Greece. She'd never felt the pull of the sky, really, never seen anything in dragons that other beasts couldn't provide. It was never about sight—it was the squelch of mud and dragon dung, the scars of hide, the smell of blood and life and smoke, the feel of something really done under her fingers.


	2. Fire Crabs: Lucy

"That'd look cute on you."

"Mm?" Lucy distractedly intoned. She was staring across the street again. Tarot cards, most likely. Knowing Lucy there'd be no way to tell if she wanted them to predict the downfall of any potential rivals or just to amuse herself and her friends. Probably both.

" _That_ ," Cepheus indicated, pointing through the dingy window, "right there."

Sighing, Lucy glanced around. "Those dress robes?" She raised her eyes at a black dress. "They look too hot."

"No, not them. Can't you see that necklace?"

"No," she said shortly, "I can't. C'mon, let's get back to Diagon—"

"Have  _some_  sense of adventure," he demanded, grabbing Lucy's arm and dragging her into Borgin and Burkes'. She raised her eyebrows, but went along.

"That one," Cepheus pointed once again, "that necklace." It was strung with several clear, almost white jewels. "Betcha you could try it on. Betcha I could ask the workers here to let me take it out for you, they know my family kinda."

"Oh, shut up," Lucy snapped. At his shocked, hurt expression, she added, "I mean, what if it's cursed?"

"It's not cursed!" Cepheus laughed. "See? Those are from Fire Crab shells. It's just something not...not traded a lot in in Diagon Alley and that kind of places, is all."

" _Uh-huh_ ," she glared. "Don't try that with me. We had better get back to Diagon Alley, my dad is looking for me. My  _high-ranking-ministry-official_  dad."

"Okay, okay," Cepheus put his hands up. "I can take a hint. And that's not the kind of thing you should go shouting about, here."

"Maybe here isn't the kind of place you should be dragging me to."

Conceding the point, he joined her as they walked back to Knockturn Alley. "I just think it's funny," he said, "why it is that the crabs get to walk around with jewels on their back. It doesn't do them any good, does it?"

"Might as well ask why they're so greedy and keep their own shells when they could make perfectly nice cauldrons," she snapped, "they're  _beasts_ , what does it matter?"

"But that's exactly the point, isn't it? They're not getting anything out of it, might as well let beings who can appreciate them have the jewels."

"You'd look pretty dumb with that many jewels sticking out your back, you'd need a bigger shirt to make up for it." At Cepheus' expression, Lucy added, "and that is  _not_  an invitation to take yours _off_. Good grief."

"Maybe we'd all wear tighter shirts," he said, "and have the jewels sticking out the back."

"Yes, I'm sure you'd like that. But in all seriousness, let them have their jewels. They probably can't do this." She waved her wand, and a bolt of white light shot out of the end. Hurriedly, she bent it into shape, until it more or less took the shape of a jewel. "Or this." A host of multicolored sparks filled the air in between. "Or this." The creation floated over to Cepheus, who raised one hand as if to touch it, but she quickly ended the incantation before he could.

"All right, all right. But still. What if  _we_  could shoot fire out of our behinds?"

"Cepheus," she faked a lilt, "there's something I hate to break to you."

He paused, taking a moment to take it in, and then with an enraged "OY!" chased her all the way back to Diagon Alley.


	3. Salamanders: Molly

"Lucy, do you maybe want to take your homework outside?"

"Not particularly," snapped Lucy. "What's the problem?"

"It smells way too strongly of pepper. Just walk the salamander outside and we'll all be happy."

"It...can't exactly walk...yet."

"Can't...exactly...walk... _yet,_ " Molly echoed. "I take it I don't even want to know?"

"'sgrowin legs back," Lucy muttered.

"Growing...legs...on its  _back_? The limits of magic never cease to astound me."

"And your dictionary voice never...is...funny," she trailed off. "No, I'm growing its legs  _back_. Salamanders are magic, they can grow legs back when they lose them."

Curious in spite of herself, Molly rose from the couch and paced over to the floor, where Lucy had balanced each one of the salamander's legs atop a different vial. Blood was slowly pooling in all four of them. "Salamanders  _are_  magic, and they  _can_  grow legs back when they lose them, but that's not magic. That's just being salamanders. The normal ones do that too."

"The what?"

"The normal ones, amphibians."

"What's an amphibian?"

Molly laughed. She loved these moments—Lucy had been getting cannier about not asking dumb questions ever since she started Hogwarts, but not canny enough. "Things like frogs. Normal salamanders. That live on water or land."

"Water or Earth? But salamanders are  _fire_  elementals."

"Precisely.  _Magical_  salamanders are not like normal ones. They just both can regenerate limbs."

"So...there are other kinds of salamanders, you're saying?"

Molly put on her most devious grin. It was modeled after Lucy's, of course, but no need to tell her younger sister that. "Exactly."

"And I take it the non-magical kind aren't created in fire?"

"Yes."

"Where do you  _learn_ all this stuff?"

"At the zoo? And school, we learn about amphibians and reptiles too."

They gave each other the awkward stares that Molly knew so desperately well, the  _I am part of a world you will never understand_  glances. Lucy trying to be pitying, but finding it hard when Molly's look was of such utter disdain; Molly trying to be as mocking as possible, so her jealousy wouldn't show. To try and break the tension, she noted, "And don't think I won't smell it if you get the pepper out now."

"Have to keep it alive, don't I? Blood's proper magic, this."

Molly glanced down at the salamander. "You cut all four legs off? You can really be a sadist sometimes, Lu."

She shrugged unconcernedly. "Maybe I'll get extra credit."

Molly shook her head, and flopped back on the couch. She thought of the salamander at the zoo. It was like her—it had its magical double—but then, really, it was more like her friends. It didn't _know_  what it was missing.


	4. Blast-Ended Skrewts: Louis

"C'mon, Louis," said Bethany, "you just worry too much. You're gonna pass the test, I'm sure you could do that in your sleep."

"Everyone tells me that," Louis sighed, speed-reading through his notes again. "They're just used to me doing well, they don't know what it's like."

"No, what they're used to is you being a Ravenclaw and so they expect you to do well. I, however, actually  _am_  a Ravenclaw, so I'm not biased that way. Even beyond the average Ravenclaw, you're going to do well."

"What electives are  _you_  taking, Divination?" he teased.

"Muggle Studies, and that  _is_  a soft class so I do pass everything, okay, and Care of Magical Creatures."

"Better you than me," he shuddered. "Even the Pygmy Puffs distrust me."

"You just need to be more confident! Once you trust yourself, the Pygmy Puffs will be crawling all over you."

"That's exactly what I don't want," Louis pointed out.

"Whatever. Want me to quiz you?"

"Sure, that'd be great," he said.

"You know, with anyone else I'd have wondered if they were just manipulating me into doing this for them," she sighed, "but you're too thick."

"Thanks."

"That's a compliment, really."

"Strange one."

"Nice to stand out among all the other Ravenclaws, isn't it? Here, give me your notes." Louis handed the notebook over. Bethany raised her eyebrows. "Can you even read all this?"

"More or less."

She sighed, and took out her wand. " _Accio_  Louis' textbook!"

Louis quickly realized that the book was on the chair directly behind him, and ducked. Bethany, however, was left glaring at the sparks from the end of her wand. "You can't do a Summoning Charm!"

"Neither can you," she glowered.

"Fair dos, but I don't go around trying them either, do I?" he said, retrieving the book and throwing it at her.

It was her turn to dodge, pick it up, open halfway through, open a fourth of the way through, look up, and comment, "This is _Transfiguration!_ "

"Is it?" he asked mildly. "Then I can probably get all the questions right." He rummaged through his book bag. "Here you go."

"How far have you gotten?"

"Through Chapter Eight."

"Chapter Eight, eh?" Bethany paged through till she reached Chapter 5, then browsed a few pages ahead. "I name the animal, you give the number it represents. Quintaped?"

"Five. Obviously, anyone could figure that out."

"Hmm. Maybe. Unicorn?"

"One, of course."

"And you're the worried one. Runespoor."

"Rune...rune...not that sort of..." he muttered, and Bethany had to work to keep from laughing. "Three?"

"They have three heads, silly. Yes."

"Right. Right. Three heads. The Unknown?"

"Unknown...seven?"

"Good. Demiguise?"

"One half."

"No, zero."

"You're kidding me! Demi, half—" Louis continued talking quickly while Bethany stared at him, eventually giggling. "Hmm?"

"Nothing. You just started talking in French again."

"Did I really?" He sighed. "It's always like this! I never fall back into English when I'm trying to read Runes, but one mistake in French and then I have to muddle along, half this way, half that. I'm like some dumb half-breed."

"You're not a half—well, okay, maybe you are, but you're certainly not dumb."

"Thanks."

"You do have to start trusting  _me_ , eventually, if not yourself."

"That can wait till this test is over with," said Louis. "Give me my book back."

"Don't you want to try a Summoning Charm?"

"No thank you."

When his mother heard the whole story—by which time, he'd already passed the Ancient Runes test—she was quite amused and told him—in French, so he could practice—that he was a talented polyglot and a whole load of other things that made him blush, and no matter what, no sort of half-breed could be any more annoying than the Blast-Ended Skrewts.

When Bethany heard  _that_  story, she suddenly found  _her_  Care of Magical Creatures class boring.


	5. Phoenixes: Albus

"Hey, so," James began, with animated eyes, "I was in the Headmistress' office the other day and—what?"

"Nothing," Albus coolly replied. "Just—you know you're the only person who could begin a sentence that way and seem so happy about it."

James needed a minute to decide that that was probably an insult, but launched undeterred into his story. "Anyway the portraits of Dumbledore and Snape said that you should come visit sometime, get to know them."

"They're not the real people, are they? And Professor Vector probably won't be pleased if I just drop into her office."

"Why not? You have a good reason."

"Not really, I don't know them."

"But they kind of want to know you. I mean, not that much, you don't have to if you don't want to, but...I think it'd be pretty cool."

"You were just there, of course you know what it's like."

"I'm just saying."

It took four months for Albus to wander there, and even then it was only by mistake. He was looking for Gryffindor Tower to talk to Rose, got lost, and figured he was close enough to take the chance. Professor Vector was amused and pleased to see him, to his surprise, and even walked out of the room for a few minutes so the namesakes could have some private time with Albus Severus.

"I can't believe it, I'm all alone in the Headmistress' Office!" he grinned. "I'll probably break something."

"There are some benefits to appointing an Arithmancer to the post, I suppose," said Dumbledore—Snape was strangely quiet around Albus Severus, muttering something about how James had never told him about his brother's face. "There aren't too many possessions to clutter things up."

"As opposed to certain Transfiguration professors who clutter  _everything_  up," Snape muttered.

"Is he talking about you, Professor?" asked Albus Severus. "What did you put in here?"

"Miscellaneous...what is it that the Muggles say? Doo-dads, I believe. Do correct me if I'm wrong, all of you." He waved a hand to the other portraits, most of whom did not appear to be paying attention. "Many books, like Professor Vector, a Pensieve...Fawkes was here as well, although I wouldn't say I put him here so much as he came of his own accord."

"Fawkes?"

"A phoenix," he smiled, "and a very faithful companion."

"You had a phoenix? But where'd it go? I thought phoenixes live forever!"

"I believe Fawkes still lives—though this "I" is a portrait, what do I know? I believe, also, that he has left the school. More than that I cannot say. Perhaps he is dead—phoenixes live to tremendous ages even by wizarding standards, of course, but they do die."

"Phoenixes?" gaped another professor. "But they come back—"

"Out of the flames, Dexter, and even after surviving curses that would kill a wizard—well,  _most_  wizards, anyway," Dumbledore noted. "But they, too, will grow old and die."

"That's odd," said Albus Severus, who didn't really know what to say but felt like he should talk.

"Not very," said Dumbledore. "Phoenixes are living creatures, who have human...friends, of sorts. I think on some level, they understand that someday they will follow where we humans have gone before."

"Has anyone ever told you that your eyes are like your grandmother's?" Snape softly asked.

"Grandmum? No...oh, you mean Dad's mum. Yes, he's told me. Mine look like his, don't they?"

"They do," said Snape. "I knew your father's mother when she was a little girl. She had eyes like her mother's, as well. But eventually, far enough back, there was a time when the color was new in that family. Perhaps you will have children someday and they will look like you—perhaps not—but either way, even these traits that outlive humans will come to an end. That's why there's change in the world." He sighed. "I saw your brother a few months ago. It'd be an intolerable pity if there were an unending string of James Potters, now into perpetuity, wouldn't it?"

"...You're confusing," said Albus Severus. "Anyway, it was very nice to meet you, but I should probably leave so Professor Vector can have her office back."

"I'll put in a good word for you," said Dumbledore. "I'm sure she'll let you come back sometime."

"Thanks," he said, and found himself smiling more broadly than he meant to.


	6. Ashwinders: Fred

"Ashwinders."

"Salamanders."

"Ashwinders."

"Salamanders."

"Ashwinders."

"I'll ask Hugo."

"Why Hugo? He's a little kid."

"Me too. He knows most about animals. Oy! Hugo!"

"Oy yourself!" he smiled. "What's up?"

"What's the thing that only lives as long as the fires that spawn it."

"Salamanders," he said immediately.

"See?" Roxanne glared.

Noticing Fred's defeated expression, Hugo rushed to add, "It's all right, they can really outlive the fires for a little bit. But you have to feed them pepper and it smells really bad. Ashwinders are easier to deal with."

"Until they set the house on fire," Rose called from a corner of the common room.

"Hasn't happened," Hugo retorted.

"Yet."

"Back to the Ashwinders," Fred impatiently said. "What makes them easy to deal with?"

"Don't smell as bad. Long as you freeze the eggs. We ought to have an Ashwinder race sometime."

"What's that?"

"You just... _race_  'em. Can't do magic on 'em, just have to lead and hope it follows. Winner's whoever gets it farthest in an hour. How good are your freezing charms?"

"Hmm, good enough to take a chance on."

"On  _Ashwinders_?" Roxanne blurted. "Fred, you're being an idiot, and this is coming from  _me_."

"Relax," he said. "I can handle it."

"Well, don't mind me if I decide to go practice flying. On the Quidditch pitch. By which is meant  _not anywhere near here_ ," she said, stomping off to her room.

"So, how do we race?" Fred eagerly asked.

"Er, usually you find someone to race against—Rose?"

"No, and I'm not going to stand around and provide your Freezing Charms on demand, so Fred, you'd better know what you're doing," she shot back.

"All right. I'd hunt down Jamie so you could race him, but I think he's actually studying for a change. Mind doing it just to go for a record?"

"What's the record?"

"Over to the Muggle Studies room on the fifth floor. Tricky to keep track, you know, now that it's on the third floor and all the other hallways move around...but I think that's the record."

"Do I want to know who set it?"

"Probably not."

"Fair enough," said Fred. "How long will it take to get an Ashwinder?"

"Depends on how quickly I can hurry this fire along," said Hugo, who was casting a few quick probing spells on the common room fireplace. "Why do you ask?"

"I have an idea. No magic on the animal, no magic on myself...no magic at all, really, how's this?" he asked, placing his wand down by Hugo's side. "Don't touch it, just proving to you I'm not doing anything against the rules. Be back in ten minutes?"

"Me?"

"No, me." And Fred took off, down some stairs, down more stairs, through some hallways, down more stairs, and out into the grounds. Around and about. Just out of Roxanne's view. Into the school supply shed. Out of it. Just slightly above the ground. Hmm, maybe not out of Roxanne's view after all. In earshot of "Fred? The whole point of me coming out here was—" Out of earshot. Just in time. Down on the school steps. Up the stairs. Through the corridors. Up the other stairs. "Password?" "Athame."

Hugo was still standing with his back to the fire, glancing over every once in a while so he could check up on it without really attending it, when he saw Fred. "Wow. Okay. Good luck with that."

"Thanks," said Fred, straddling the school's Cleansweep Seven.

"Okay, almost ready..." The fire was by then immense, and Rose was not the only one to have vacated the common room in moderate trepidation. "Looks like...got one!"

The gray serpent sneaked out of the flames.

"Go, go on, start leading it," said Hugo. "I'll calm this fire down and follow you in a bit with the stopwatch."

"Right," said Fred, reaching for his wand, as the serpent was already scuttling to the corner Rose had vacated. "Can I cast charms on other things besides me and the snake? Not my broom, just lighting things up?"

"Yeah, yeah."

"Good." A quick charm lit up the corner, causing the Ashwinder to scuttle away. He'd have to keep lighting everything else up...and maybe darken the places ahead of him, where he wanted to go? If he could fly half as well as Roxanne, maybe he could one-handedly...No time to dwell on that.

He hovered on the broomstick, coaxing the snake with different light effects, and at last got it to clamber out of the portrait hole (which took almost fifteen minutes in itself).  _A serpent, born of fire, on the ground, following a boy in the air._  Interesting cross of the classical elements, if he did say so himself.

"Come on, little one," he almost murmured. "Come escape your fire."

Which fire had he been born into? The house of Gryffindor? The class of 2023? The wave of Weasleys? He was just  _another_  Fred Weasley, in the end. But where could he escape to?

Fred and the Ashwinder didn't even get as far as the Portable Swamp (the thought had not crossed his mind that he wasn't even the first Fred Weasley to  _fly_  through the Hogwarts hallways). It slunk under a door to a girls' bathroom Fred hadn't noticed and, hearing voices, he was reluctant to follow. After two chatty Slytherins spilled out, he rushed in to find it climbing up a stall.

He hurriedly ran outside. "Hugo, hurry up!" Hugo, laughing, climbed in and tightly slammed the door shut, holding it closed to be sure nobody would enter as Fred tried to urge the Ashwinder down. It eventually did get down, but crept under a sink instead. There was a red flash, and then the serpent crumbled to dust.

Hugo was there in one bounding step, casting a Freezing Charm. Fred blinked—had the snake really been that captivating?—and duplicated the incantation.

"You ought to take that down to the Potions dungeon," Fred suggested. "Get some extra credit maybe."

"Yeah, maybe," said Fred, still dazed.

"Hey, don't be so down," said Hugo. "All the way here has to be good for, I'd say at least third all-time."


End file.
